This Ain't the Girl Scouts
by GiftsofGab
Summary: Wow, a male OC for a "Holes" fanfic! Follow Brandon in the next few months of his life at Camp Greenlake as he tries to obtain friendships, gain honour, and maybe find something interesting along the way... Chapter 4 is UP!
1. Chapter 1

Yeah, that's right! A male OC for a Holes fanfic... Wow. I know some people are sick of so many chicks somehow getting sent to Camp Greenlake... This is before Barfbag has gone, and before Zero has even arrived. Tried to base this more off the book than the movie, so try to create your own images of the characters that aren't based off the movie's looks of them. I know most people write about D-Tent, but I know no one wants to read about a whole group of OCs. I'll try my best to get into everyone's character so it's even amongst the fandoms. X3

No slash! I will **never** write about slash, so don't worry. Only rated K+ for references to things the typical guy talks about, like his beautiful girlfriend, but nothing crude, I swear. Plus, this is before Mr. Sir tried to quit smoking, so there's that if it bothers ya'. Just a heads up.

I've only written two chapters. I dunno how many there will be in all. Bear with me.

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**Chapter 1**

A yellow bus sped down a dirty Texas road with a dust cloud trailing behind. Brandon sat uncomfortably near the back of the vehicle. There was a guard at the front with a seat facing the boy. Brandon, the guard, and an elderly driver were the only ones onboard.

Brandon was about 16 years of age. He had short, dirty-blonde hair. He wore a white T-shirt with a shoe brand name on it, some ripped blue jeans, and a pair of dirty keds. Not that those clothes would serve him good for much longer.

He was going to camp, you see. A camp for bad boys. Camp Greenlake. It was either 18 months there or in prison. Brandon didn't know much about it, but he knew it wasn't much greater than jail. There was no lake, no cool air, and worst of all, he thought, no girls. There was no justice at all as far as he was concerned.

Brandon had with him only a brown, beat up messenger bag with toiletries, a pair of dirty socks, and a _Batman _comic that had been read at least 4 times during that one 3 hour trip. He was a runaway; and apart from that, he was a bad boy. He didn't think so, but why else would he be sent off to a camp to dig holes for 18 months?

That's what Camp Greenlake was all about. For the longest time, young men had been sent to the camp to dig holes. Once a day, each boy would dig one hole that was 5 feet by 5 feet. They say it's to build character.

Now Brandon was going because he had hurt a woman. He didn't mean to, he says, but he hurt her. It was while he was trying to steal her purse. He had also been charged with joyriding and other types of theft. He was lucky to be serving only 18 months.

It was very hot on the bus. After a long ride, Brandon was glad to step off. The driver stayed in his seat, but the guard, a heavy man in a brown uniform, led the boy into a dirty old log cabin. The earth cracked beneath their feet as they walked. They entered the cabin through an opened screen door.

"Got another one for you," the guard said to a man sitting at an old desk. This man was a bit heavy-set. He wore a white cowboy hat and a half-opened pin-stripped shirt. The man stood, removed a cigarette from a pack in his shirt pocket, lit it, and placed it in his mouth. It was obvious he was trying to intimidate Brandon

"Hello, boy," the man said in a deep voice with a southern drawl. "I," he breathed smoke out heavily, "am Mr. Sir."

The name didn't mean anything to Brandon. He had heard of stranger titles before. Brandon searched the man over with his brown eyes and said nothing. The guard gave him a shove on the back. "Go ahead, Brandon. Say hello."

Brandon looked away with an angry brow. "Hey."

Mr. Sir made an agitated face. "You will address me by Mr. Sir each time you speak to me."

Brandon simply replied, "Yes, Mr. Sir," not making eye contact.

Mr. Sir apologized to the guard as he tosses him two small chocolate milk cartons from a mini refrigerator. "We're out of coke."

The guard told him it was fine and he went back onboard the bus, handing one carton to the driver.


	2. Chapter 2

Mr. Sir led Brandon to a back room and handed him an orange jumpsuit, a pair of white socks, and an orange cap. "Put those on— hand me what you're wearing," Mr. Sir said.

Once Brandon had done so, Mr. Sir gave him a pair of white sneakers. "You will get another jumpsuit like this one. One for recreation time and one for work. You can wear your T-shirt during recreation or dinner if you want but put these jeans away somewhere." He tossed the blue jeans back to Brandon.

There was no one to be seen around camp apart from Mr. Sir and the boy. The two walked to a tent labeled "D TENT". When they entered, Brandon saw 7 stacked crates and 7 old cots with dirty mattresses.

"You'll sleep here," Mr. Sir said, motioning to an empty cot. Brandon took off his bag and put it on top of a poorly folded blanket at the end of the bed. "That's your crate," he said, taking Brandon's bag from the bed and swinging it into an empty crate at the bottom of the pile with three in it. "Now," said the man. "You share this tent with 6 other boys. They go by…" He counted on his fingers slowly, trying to remember all the names. "Squid, Barfbag, X-Ray, Zigzag, Magnet, and Armpit. Just stay here until people start coming back. Then you can head to supper." Mr. Sir then walked out, leaving Brandon standing alone in the foul-smelling tent. He thought about the strangely nicknamed boys and what they would be like. But then again, his main focus was on what was for dinner, as he hadn't eaten lunch that day. He flopped down onto his mattress and dust flew up.

Brandon sat at a dirty table in the corner of the rec. room. He was eating fairly quickly. He was the first person in line, but he was also one of the only boys in the room. He could see out the window at the showers across the way. Many boys were spending their first moments back from who-knows-where waiting in line and using the showers.

Another young man stepped into the rec. room and had his tray filled with the slop the servers called food. Tonight's specialty consisted of spinach, creamed corn, pinto beans, and hash— all out of cans.This young man had crazy blonde hair and a long neck. He wore the top half of his jumpsuit down to his waist with a white wife-beater underneath. He looked around for a seat. Most places were empty anyways, but he chose to sit at Brandon's table. He slid down right next to him, unannounced, and began to eat, saying nothing at all. Brandon gave the odd glance over at him once or twice, but said nothing. The other boy didn't even look at him once.

After Brandon had finished eating, he finally said, "Hey, man." The other boy turned to him. "I'm Brandon," he said, offering out a hand. The other boy didn't shake it. He only looked at him, one eye open slightly more than the other. He was chewing side-to-side like a cow, but at least his mouth was closed… mostly. He glanced at Brandon's hand. "Zigzag," he said, finishing his bite of food.

Suddenly, another boy, Hispanic, slide into the bench across from Zigzag, not even paying attention to Brandon. "Yo, Zigzag, can you believe that, man? Armpit was walking back here from his hole and he tripped over my freak'n dirt pile. Fell right on me, man."

Brandon seemed to recognize the names Zigzag and Armpit, though he did not know the Hispanic boy's name. He turned toward Brandon, and shook his head. "Oh, right. Hey, bro, I'm Magnet." He flashed a nice smile, lifting his head a bit. Brandon returned the smile and introduced himself.

Eventually, more and more boys from D Tent joined the others at the table. No one paid much attention to Brandon, really. They only carried on their conversations and complaints about the day. That was fine with Brandon, though. It gave him a look into what horror would await him the next day.

When everyone had finished eating, Brandon was sitting on a hard stool, leaning against a wall, just thinking. Everyone from the table had finished speaking and they headed out the door. Brandon stood quickly. "See you guys later, I guess. Bye Magnet, Zigzag!"

Everyone just laughed and shoved each other playingly. _"See you guys later,"_ they teased Magnet and Zigzag. They only laughed back, as if they had never sat down with him at all. _"Byyye!"_


	3. Chapter 3

Brandon was usually known as the tough guy, but the other boys at camp intimidated him. What had he done wrong?

            That night Brandon lay in bed, everyone else asleep around him. He thought back to his childhood and even about what he'd be doing the next day. He looked his whole life over and he wasn't pleased. _When I get out, I swear I'll_—

            "Okay, boys! Wake up, wake up!" a loud voice called into the tent. It was a man the boys referred to as Mom— the councilor for D Tent. Brandon shot up in his bed. It was still dark out! He hadn't even fallen asleep. How long could he have been awake?

            There was a routine. Wake up, get dressed, grab your shovel (and not X-Ray's shovel, mind you) and head out to your dig-sight. The sun was hot and it would only get hotter. Even wintertime was no picnic. There was no place to hide from the heat.

            It was near 2:00 in the afternoon when everyone started heading back after digging their holes. Brandon had only made it a few feet in, and he was— …Where exactly was Brandon? The others started to notice that he had stopped clumsily shoveling dirt into their holes. Barfbag climbed out of his hole and walked over to Brandon's hole, glancing in. Didn't look good.

            "Hey, Squid, get over here," he called. Squid climbed from his hole and also walked over. "Should we head to camp and tell Mom?" he asked. Magnet appeared beside Squid. "Nah, I say we leave him for the day," he laughed. Soon enough, all the boys had gathered around Brandon's little hole. "Come on, man, it'd be funny, but we'd get shower tokens taken away if they found out," X-Ray said. "I say it's worth it," Armpit joked.

            There was a moment of silence.

            Everyone else suddenly broke out and started saying things like, "Get him out of that hole now, man!" and "I do not _think _so!" Everyone managed to pull Brandon from his hole and lay him on the ground. Water was precious so they decided to use Brandon's own to try to wake him up. He had fainted just a few feet into his hole.

            Brandon woke up with Mom standing over him. Supposedly, Mom (that is, Mr. Pendanski) was a doctor. "Hey, Brandon, can you hear me?" he asked, patting on the boy's face. Brandon slowly regained consciousness to see Mom above him.

            "Well, there ya' go. Hello, Brandon," Mom smiled down. Brandon sat up.

            "Hey, Mr.--"

Barfbag suddenly walked into the room—another back room of Mr. Sir's work cabin. "Mom," Brandon finished. Barfbag smiled. Brandon felt pretty good about himself, thinking he may have moved up a bit in status in the other boy's eyes just because of that. It was then that he realized that Barfbag was holding a shovel and waiting for Brandon to wake.

            He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe that they made him head back out into the sun and _finish _his hole! It was quite dark by the time he had finished. When Brandon headed back to camp, the dining line was closed. He hardly had time for a shower. He didn't feel like heading back and getting his soap. After he had showered, he flopped onto his bed. Everyone else was asleep. He went to bed without supper. He was used to it, I suppose. Tomorrow would be better… Right?


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Brandon head out with the other D Tent boys, bagel in hand. "So'd ya' finish your hole?" Squid asked with a laugh. "Actually, yeah," Brandon replied. "Really?" asked X-Ray in surprised.

No one expected Brandon to have finished his hole. Rather, they thought he would have claimed it finished and come back early. Brandon felt quite proud of himself. All the other boys walked in front of him, hurrying to get to their dig site. Magnet patted Brandon on the back. "Good job, man!" he said. Brandon was about to thank him, but before he could Magnet smiled and said, "But the second hole's always worse than the first. He laughed and hurried along with the others, leaving Brandon behind in his gloom.

Despite the many blister and calluses he had, Brandon dug his hole as fast as he could. He had a good feeling inside: as if he was finally getting somewhere with the others, even after what Magnet had said that morning. While digging, he was chatting about this and that with the boys. He spoke about why he was there, as did they. They talked about hobbies and family. They really connected, though they still didn't think much of Brandon. These things do take time, though.

That night, Mom had the D Tent boys sit in a circle in old metal chairs in the rec. room. They sat around in the small circle and spoke of why they were at camp in the first place. Brandon took the opportunity to get to know everyone through what they had said. There were sad tales and delightfully funny ones. All the same, Mom always replied, "No, son, you are only here because of your own mistake." Not that anyone paid much attention. It was Mom's job to say things like that.

The boys headed out the door. They were heading in for the night when Armpit playingly shoved Brandon on the back. "You actually gonna get some sleep tonight, Bloodshot?"

Brandon could tell he was referring to his eyes, as he had hardly slept a wink since his arrival. "Yeah, how can you get through a single day here?" X-Ray asked, pulling his white T-shirt over his head. "Na, that's what he fainted," laughed Magnet. "Did those few minutes under suffice, Bloodshot?" asked Zigzag with a smile.

"Okay, okay," Brandon said, pretending to punch the others away with a laugh as they jokingly hit him over the head. "Enough of this 'bloodshot' stuff. I get it, I get it."

"Yo, whatchu talking about, Bloodshot?" Armpit asked, entering D Tent and flopping onto his cot. "Yeah, Bloodshot. Better get some good sleep tonight, or you'll pass out again," laughed Barfbag.

Brandon just turned and crawling into his cot and felt his back's pain as it adjusted to lying flat. He slipped off his boots with his feet. "Bloodshot, eh?" He thought so much about the nickname that he almost lived up to it by the next morning. He knew he'd have to get some sleep eventually. He rolled on his side and closed his eyes.

Brandon was under the hot sun, no one else around. It was about noon and he was busy digging his hole. He wiped his brow. He looked up to see the sun beating down. He closed his eyes, sighed, and fell directly backwards. As he did, he found himself surrounded by a great amount of dark, cold water, fish swimming all around him. He looked down to see his jumpsuit replaced by green swim trunks. He looked up and it seemed the surface of the water was a hundred feet above.

He had puffed cheeks and he clinched his throat, begging for air. Brandon suddenly looked forward to see Mr. Sir before him. He was standing, though, not swimming. Mr. Sir suddenly pulled a pistol from his belt and fired it. The bullet flew directly through the water—directly through Brandon, too. It went clean through his heart and out of his back. "You cannot hide it from me!" Mr. Sir shouted and turned away, disappearing into the water. Brandon suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay," X-Ray's voice whispered.

Brandon shot up in his cot, looking up to see X-Ray at his side. "Yo, you okay, Bloodshot?" He was really awake now. "It was just bad dream or something," said X-Ray, pulling Brandon from his cot. "Get dressed, dude. We gotta go. I got your shovel."


End file.
